


A Glass Partition

by TheBorgiasDevil



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Conflict, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, protective ignis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-01-23 19:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12515300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBorgiasDevil/pseuds/TheBorgiasDevil
Summary: Three stories of Ignis and Gladio working to move past their differences, first to be better friends to Noctis, then to be better partners to each other.





	1. Difficult to See Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place before the Sword and Shield episode of Brotherhood and is currently unbeta'd. 
> 
> Warning for canon-typical non-graphic injuries to young Noctis.

There are a great many things one might notice upon first introduction to the teenager, Gladiolus Amicitia. Objectively, Ignis could dissect the obvious and weed out his own personal biases. The first, and most apparent, was his physical strength. Good breeding and healthy diet could account for much of the young man’s developed form, but that meant nothing if unaccompanied by a rigorous and disciplined training routine, which he dedicated himself to. From there an inspection of his clothing reflected a style that was sensible but not without his own personal flair, so it was only natural to assume a level of confidence in who he was at this stage of his life. Finally there was the company he kept, which, lest he win the favor of the Six, was an unchallengeable lot: a King, a Prince, his own Father the Shield of the King, and a man nicknamed The Immortal. All in all he could be deemed a perfect human being. 

Logically, Ignis knew he should have at least attempted something akin to a friendship with the man who was to one day be the Prince’s, thus the future King’s, Shield. Perhaps a friendly rivalry would suffice. However, for all his effort in remaining open minded to the ideas of those around him, his opinion of Gladiolus remained one that considered him the very epitome of the uncultured human being. 

An echo of steel on steel reverberated through the hall leading Ignis to the training room used by the Amicitias for their goings on. The sound set Ignis’s teeth on edge as he approached the door. Past this threshold was Gladiolus’s arena, where refinement could only be found in the well balanced blade or time worn staff. 

“No, I’m done!” Came their Prince’s voice, clearly audible in the quiet evening air. 

Unlike his trainee, Gladiolus’s response was hushed, spoken to be heard by the Prince’s ears alone. Whatever it may have been, the young Noctis did not accept the reply. Ignis stood and listened, unaware of the tension that stiffened his shoulders and stilled his breathing. 

“I already told you, my hand hurts! If Iggy was here he’d let me stop early.” The latter was barely discernable through the heavy wooden doors, but hearing his charge call out his name made the teenager’s stomach twist painfully in his gut. Unfortunately a glance at his watch told him that the Shield-in-Training had another three and a half minutes with Noctis before supper. 

Though, if Noctis was truly in pain, which was not his place to question, then assessing the situation himself was top priority. Without another moment of hesitation, Ignis rapped thrice on the training room door. When the door opened his lips fell mute as Gladiolus, not the petit Prince, fell into frame before him. 

A deep, dissatisfied grunt, followed by the crossing of two muscular arms, sent alarm bells through Ignis’s mind. “A little early, dont’cha think?” Gladiolus asked, standing firmly between Ignis and their Prince. 

“A mere three minutes, nothing that should interfere with the mandatory and healthy cool down after a rigorous session,” Ignis said, keeping his tone even and his words clear. 

Barely a second of silence passed between them when the Prince squeezed his way past Gladiolus to reach Ignis’s side. “Iggy, my fingers hurt,” said the boy, his voice soft and oddly gentle for a twelve year old. 

“Come, let me see them,” Ignis said, dropping to one knee whilst taking the small hand in his own. Gladiolus shifted in his periphery as he inspected the swollen fingers carefully, turning each one to and fro to watch for any sign of discomfort or stunted movement. Noctis winced slightly at the attention, but didn’t pull away and kept further complaints to himself. “It appears the fingers are sprained,” he said, lifting his gaze to Gladiolus’s face where he was met with red cheeks and narrowed eyes, “though I cannot say for certain until he is checked by a professional.” 

“He’s just being a sissy.” Gladiolus responded, his tone harsh, carrying more than just a moment’s frustration. 

Ignis took in a slow breath, then carefully stood upright, grateful that he was one of the few people their age who wasn’t completely dwarfed by the young Shield. “That is not for you to decide, Gladiolus,” he said quietly, resting a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. Others may have shrivelled before the headstrong 16 year old, but Ignis was not one to lose his will easily, especially when it came to defending their prince. 

Gladiolus looked down at Noctis, giving Ignis a clear view of his clenched jaw and tense brow. “Fine, you’re dismissed,” he snapped before turning his back to the pair. Within moments he was running through a posta drill and Ignis took the opportunity to escort Noctis away. 

Despite his worry, Ignis was grateful that he’d been correct in his evaluation and the Prince’s fingers were mildly sprained, needing only light icing and a few days rest from holding a sword. The former was a simple request, hindered only by Noctis’s dislike of anything that resembled discomfort. The latter, however, was a more delicate matter. He imagined Gladiolus was still frustrated by their prior encounter, and though he was not eager for a confrontation he did want to find some manner of peace between them. If Gladiolus wanted to be hard on Noctis, then he needed to allow Ignis the opposite, to comfort him as he’d done since first arriving at the Citadel as a child. 

As the sun rose the following morning he made his way down to the training room once more, hoping to find Gladiolus there before others woke for the day. Satisfied with the sound’s coming from the locked doors, Ignis knocked, hoping it was Gladiolus and not Clarus hidden from his view. Whoever opened the door would be greeted with a cold bottle of water and fresh towel, lest he catch one or both off guard in a moment of dishevelment without a gift to set them at ease. 

Once more, Gladio stood before him, sweat already shining on his face from what Ignis assumed was an intense morning workout. 

“What, did you come here to yell at me for bullying the Prince?” Gladiolus asked, taking the offered towel and water without question, for which Ignis was grateful. 

“No, however I would like to speak with you for a moment, if you’ll allow me the intrusion?” Gladiolus waved a hand at the doors and Ignis nodded, shutting them while taking a brief moment to catch his composure before facing Gladiolus once more. “I wanted to inform you, in person, that Noctis will be needing a few days to recover. It seems he’s sprained his fingers and requires some rest so as to not damage them further.” 

As he explained himself Gladiolus simply waited, chugging down the water with gusto, finishing the crinkling bottle off once Ignis grew silent. 

 

“So that’s it,” he said, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “That’s all you came here to tell me?” 

“Well that was my main priority, yes,” he said, trying to remember all the points he wanted to make. That Noctis was their Prince and deserved their respect. That despite their positions below Noctis their physical and mental superiority could be emotionally destructive to such a sensitive child. That after nearly losing his life to the Marilith, Ignis swore he would never let Noctis feel vulnerable again. 

“Good.” The space between them grew shorter as Gladiolus stepped forward, the towel clenched tightly in his fist. “Then let me get something off my chest.”


	2. A Glass Partition is Difficult to See Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd.

Without much thought or debate, Ignis could name at least twenty people their age who would prefer facing down a fully grown saberclaw than an enraged Gladiolus. In a different life, under different circumstances, he too may have succumb to fear as the other stood over him, allowing himself to be intimidated by someone who was otherwise his equal.

When all the facts were examined it made a certain amount of sense to Ignis. Noctis and Gladiolus seemed bound to each other by fate, in the decisions of their fathers and grandfathers. Perhaps he assumed Ignis wasn’t as invested in the success of the Lucis bloodline, after all, Ignis was by all accounts an outsider, brought in by his uncle and sponsor. Gladiolus certainly had a lot riding on the successes of the future king, and no one could claim a more serious dedication to the Prince’s safety, save for the King himself.

Despite all that he knew, Ignis couldn’t stop the flood of adrenaline that made his heart pound and ears buzz; exchanging verbal blows was not something in which he could claim any level of proficiency.

Instead of heading back to his own office to regain his composure, Ignis made a detour to see Noctis, reminding himself of why he’d chosen a life dedicated to such a young boy. The choice most definitely had been his own, even as a child he felt his duty was standing tall at Noctis’s side. Uncertainty was a beast Ignis faced often in his life, but being with his Prince almost instantly eased his anxiety about being the wrong person for the job.

The walk to Noctis’s room was one he knew well, better than any path or course he’d ever taken. It was best in the pale morning hours, before the rest of the citadel woke and the Prince was most definitely still asleep. From the bedroom door streamed a sliver of light and Ignis quietly pushed the door open with the back of his hand, shifting it just enough that he could step inside. Over Noctis’s sleeping form stood the King, staring down at his son in silence, brushing a lock of hair from his brow.

“There are many things this world has taken from me,” Regis said softly, seemingly aware of the teenager who quickly stood at attention in the threshold, “I never imagined my son’s smile would be among them.”

A heavy sigh cut through Ignis’s chest, his eyes stinging as he watched the moment of familial intimacy and love that played out before him. “It’will return one day, my lord. I’m certain he will find someone who can bring out the child in him once more.”

The King remained still, and Ignis waited, allowing the man a moment of peace before duty to their Kingdom called him away. “If only you and Gladiolus could see eye to eye on him. I have a feeling you both could get him to relax a little.”

A deep heat pinched Ignis’s cheeks and he gave a low bow, afraid of what was to come when he lifted his head. “Apologies, Sir, we- I had assumed we were alone. Gladiolus was an innocent party, it was I who confronted him first.”

Regis laughed, waving a hand for Ignis to follow him out of the bedroom, leaving the sleeping prince to his dreams. Ignis did as asked, standing outside the now shut door with his head lowered respectfully to his King. It was the uncertainty of not knowing how Regis felt about the intrusion that caused an uncomfortable twisting his stomach as he waited to be scolded for behaving irrationally. Before him stood his King, a giant to most grown men, but one of the few role models Ignis could claim.

Losing the trust of the King was something he didn’t want to imagine, let alone accept as a possible reality.

“You are allowed to lose your temper, Ignis.” Regis’s voice was gentle and understanding, edging towards the painful crackle of old age that didn’t suit his still young face. “This is your home, this is your world, and I’m grateful that Noct brings out that fighting spirit in you.” Without warning, the man placed one of his large, sword calloused hands on Ignis’s shoulder, clasping it the way his own father never had. “Promise me, Ignis, you will stay with him. He cannot be here with me forever, but I know you and Gladiolus will remain at his side until the end.”

Ignis paused, then lifted his head to look into slightly wrinkled eyes and a broad smile. “I will stand with him, always,” he said quietly, his own declaration stinging his ears. The words felt unnatural and gaudy in his mouth, as if he were declaring that a clouded sky often begets rain; of course he was meant to be with Noctis.

“Then you must find your peace with Gladiolus. He needs the both of you as a pair, not as two opposing forces in his life.” Regis knelt down until Ignis no longer needed to tilt his head up to look into the man’s eyes. “You’re a clever child, I know you can reach a concord with him.”

Ignis listened, trying to silence his stubborn and willful side, allowing the King’s advice to settle his nerves. “I’ll do my best, Sir,” he said, bowing once more. The firmness slipped from his shoulder, leaving behind a comforting warmth that Ignis wished to remain. When he righted himself the King was halfway down the hall, broad back covered in a royal mantle that grazed the floor, billowing as he walked gracefully away, leaving Ignis alone in the still morning air. 

~~~

All the cleverness in the world could not win the stubborn Gladiolus over.

Try as he might, Ignis couldn’t convince Gladiolus to spend more than a few seconds within the same vicinity as him. Though he could not blame him for the numerous attempts to avoid another confrontation, Ignis was getting frustrated that not so much as a “hello” had passed between them.

A week after Noctis was able to use his hands properly again, Ignis found his chance to speak.

Gladiolus stood in the middle of the training room, sweat soaking through the back of his shirt as he practiced swinging a sword taller than either of them. He waited, watching Gladiolus run through the motions, with each slash more powerful and accurate than the last. As he had no desire to catch the man off guard, causing possible injury, he waited until the set was finished to get his attention.

“Gladiolus,” he called out, trying his best to appear casual, though standing with his hands stuffed into his pockets made him feel awkward and unkempt, “might I borrow a moment of your time?”

The teen turned to face him, his face flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Without greeting him, Gladiolus lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe the moisture from his forehead and neck, revealing a strong core and tanned skin that almost made Ignis falter as he continued speaking.

“I’ve come here to apologize for my behavior last week. It-”

“Can it,” Gladiolus snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, shirt still wrinkled from where he’d used it as a makeshift towel. “You don’t have to apologize, dammit. I’m the one who lost my cool.” He looked off somewhere over Ignis’s shoulder, then finally met eyes him.

An unfamiliar feeling settled into Ignis’s knees, making the caps shake as he tried to regain control over his person. “You were simply thinking of what is best for Noctis in the future, it’s only natural,” he explained, more for himself than for Gladiolus. “I’ll hold no qualms with your preparation for what’s to come, if you’ll allow me to care for him in the moment. That’s all I ask of you.”

The other responded with a heavy shrug, then took two steps closer, just enough for him to comfortably offer a hand for Ignis to shake, which he did with little hesitation. The other teen was far more gentle than he imagined, and Ignis couldn’t help but wonder what other incorrect assumptions he’d made regarding Gladiolus Amicitia. “Sounds like a deal, Iggy.”

“Oh, must you? It’s bad enough with Noctis calling me such a name,” Ignis argued.

“Uh, yes? And from now on, if you call me Gladiolus, I won’t answer to it.”

“What shall I call you then?”

“Gladio.”

_Gods save me._


	3. A Glass Partition is Difficult to See Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is unbeta'd.

“You’re thinking again,” Gladio said, sticking his sword in the ground by Ignis’s feet.

What started as an idle complaint by his new friend was now a common critique of his form and, in many ways, Ignis’s whole state of being. _Get out of your head. Stop thinking and just do it! You can’t learn this without doing it. Iggy, I swear on the Six, if you stop to take notes I’m gonna-_

“Not all of us can empty our minds so readily, Gladiolus,” he replied, testing the weight of the dagger in his hands once more.

Gladio huffed, but when Ignis glanced up the taller teen had a smirk on his face. “Are you calling me stupid?” he asked, leaning against the sword, his hand enveloping the pummel with tanned fingers.

“I’d never stoop so low as to call a dear friend stupid. Instead I might gently hint at it, in a manner of speaking,” he said, and Gladio frowned at the reply.

“You’re more frustrating than Noctis,” Gladio said, pulling the blade from the earth. “Again.”

All at once the hefty sword was swinging towards Ignis, he parried it the way Gladio showed him: get in close, catch the blade with the hilt, use the swordsman’s own momentum against him to direct the sword away from his body, free the blade, and counter attack. The motion certainly wasn’t natural, but the familiarity he felt after running through a few practices gave a sorely needed boost to his confidence.

While he definitely would not call training like this with Gladio fun by any means, Ignis enjoyed the quiet air around them, with only the sound of their weapons clashing to excite the stillness. There was something satisfying about the ache of his fingers and the stinging in his palms as they worked out the last of their energy for the day, fighting their way to the middle ground their King demanded they find.

King Regis couldn’t understand: Ignis came to realize this over the weeks and months since he and Gladio reached their agreement to try and be friends. He had a son to take care of and people to lead, he didn’t have the time for distraction. In many ways Ignis didn’t have time either, but he found himself staring at thick, long eyelashes, perfect white teeth, muscles that barely fit into shirts they were meant to cover-

“Ignis!” Gladio shouted.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m not sure why I’m so distracted this evening,” Ignis said, pushing his hair out of his face as he caught his breath.

“Let’s end here then, maybe you’re getting sick? Iris had a cold yesterday, might be going around,” Gladio said, sheathing his sword as he walked over to Ignis.

The rough, sweaty palm that pressed against his forehead felt better than the one Regis placed on his shoulder nearly two months ago. Instead of being comforting this one was hot with life and vitality. When Gladio pulled back, Ignis felt his fringe sticking upwards, and the boy let out a deep laugh that didn’t fit his young face.

“Sorry Specs, looks like we messed up your mane,” he said, then ruffled Ignis’s hair until it stood on end.

Ignis wanted to get annoyed, but instead a familiar warmth spread over his face and he looked up at Gladio while pushing his hair back down. “If that was an attempt to put me off,” he said, doing his best to fix the mess Gladio made, “then might I suggest you find a different route? I’m no stranger to this kind of bullying.”

He straightened his back and gave a small frown to Gladio, who promptly slapped him on the back, making him cough. “I got no interest in bullying you. Teasing maybe but not bullying.”

Ignis listened, wondering if it was true. He’d never seen Gladio be mean to Noctis about something that wasn’t within his own realm of control. Never teased him for his soft voice, never pointed out his (pitiful) lack of friends, and not once had he ever said a word to Noctis about his mother. Perhaps he was telling the truth.

“I find that a little difficult to believe when you say it mere moments after calling me Specs,” he pointed out.

Together they walked from the courtyard to the apartment wing of the castle where the Amacitia’s and Scientia’s lived. Ignis noted that the walk was taking longer than usual, which surprised him considering how much faster Gladio tended to move when they were on their way to their respective homes.

“Is your leg bothering you?” he asked, and Gladio froze.

“How did you-?”

“It usually takes us five minutes to walk from the training room to the door at the end of the corridor, but it’s been nearly seven and we’ve still got the entirely of the hall to go.”

Gladio sighed, shaking his head. “I pulled a muscle in my calf while I was running last night, leave it to you to notice.”

Ignis nodded, wanting to prod with questions about whether Gladio drank enough water, took his supplements, or finished his warm ups correctly. Instead he swallowed his questions, saving them for another time when he was certain they would not put Gladio on the defensive.

“Come up to my apartment, I still have some leftover medicine from when Noct hurt his hand. We’ll see what we can do.” Gladio tensed, and though Ignis had no idea why he was hesitating, he still frowned at his overgrown peer. “You are the future shield of the king. Part of our duty to set an example for Noct, so you will let me help you.”

****

“My uncle is still out,” he said, setting his bag on the first chair they passed. “Come, lay down.” he pointed to the couch, “face down so I can reach your leg. Don’t argue with me,” he said when Gladio opened his mouth.

Gladio did as instructed and moved to lay down on the couch that was not nearly long enough to fit him comfortably. Ignis went to their bathroom to collect the first aid kit he’d carried with him while Noctis was still recovering from his sprain. A few numbing creams to reduce swelling and a variety of vitamins to treat muscle fatigue and tension filled the plastic case to the brim, but Ignis selected a few compresses to complete the collection. With someone like Gladio, Ignis knew he would just work through the pain, as Noctis often complained that the oldest of the three told him to just “walk it off” whenever he was sore from training.

When he returned Gladio was laid out, one of his pant legs hiked up with the shin resting awkwardly on the arm of the sofa. “Perhaps I should have asked you to lay on the floor,” he commented, standing in the hallway that lead back into the living room. “You might be more comfortable there.”

“I’m surprised you even let me sit on your couch, let alone put my feet on it,” Gladio pointed out, looking over at Ignis with a bit of mischief that he’d only recently noticed, though he was still learning to appreciate this side of his almost-friend.

“Just don’t tell Noctis, please,” Ignis said, walking over to the sofa, seating himself on a nearby ottoman at the end of the couch. “I would never hear the end of it if he knew I let you put your sweaty face all over my uncle’s favorite pillows. He might dare to ask if he could eat on it.”

Gladio chuckled once more, the sound filling the room with ease, leaving behind a sense of relaxation that boosted Ignis’s confidence.

He set to work rubbing in a herbal balm to help soothe the strained muscle. On Noctis he kept his movements gentle for fear of bruising his skin or causing unnecessary discomfort. With Gladio, however, Ignis pressed his fingers into his calm, working the balm in with a heavy-handed massage.

Gladio let out an almost humorously loud grunt, relaxing into the sofa. “Fuck that feels good,” he moaned, and Ignis felt his ears burn at the unnecessarily crass compliment.

“No need to be vulgar,” he commented, focusing on his task in the hopes that his embarrassment would not get the best of him. “I do hope you never speak to our prince in such a manner,” he added, drawing a low and satisfying chuckle from Gladio once more.

The urge to steal glances at Gladio in such a vulnerable position was tempting. Ignis’s eyes naturally followed the curves and hard edges of his calves, up thick thighs, over his backside, then hastily back down to where his hands worked. In trying to befriend Gladiolus and navigate through their differences, Ignis discovered new aspects of his peer to admire, and he was not ashamed of the intense respect he now felt for Gladio. What he’d falsely interpreted as disinterest he now understood was discipline, hostility was straightforwardness, and his characteristic callousness towards their prince stemmed from a deep and unspoken fear of losing him due to Gladio’s own failure in both training and protecting him.

“Yo Ig, you alright back there?” Gladio asked, pulling Ignis from his reverie.

“Yes, apologies.” Ignis pulled a heated patch out of the box and placed it over the area he’d finished massaging, satisfied with the work he’d done in the short amount of time.

“Done?” Gladio asked, rolling onto his back.

There was another reason his gaze seemed to fall in Gladio’s direction the moment their prince was out of sight, but he was unable to form those thoughts into words, lest they become real. Ignis kept his gaze down, debating if he should be more ashamed of the growing affection in his heart for the young man who now stared at him from his uncle’s couch, or if there was any possibility in humoring himself.

None of this mattered, he’d decided, as he planned on letting the childish crush fade in the heat of summer.

In the years before they learned to be friends, Ignis wondered what their time together as two teenagers might look like. His mind painted images of them passing silently in the hallways, of standing on either side of Noctis as he grew old, never seeing eye to eye and never exchanging words. There was something awkward and painful about recalling those moments. Now he imagined something different, softer, more honest. Perhaps there was a future where they would stand at Noctis’s side, not as opposing energies in his life, but as complimentary forces. Gladiolus could help him bear the burden of might and power, lifting Noctis up as a skilled fighter all while protecting him. Ignis could keep his mind and wit sharp, teach him etiquette and language, of how to express his personal and national desires with accuracy.

“What the hell is going on in your head now?” Gladio asked, and Ignis raised his gaze, shocked to see Gladiolus sitting up and leaning in close.

“Oh, nothing,” Ignis said, pulling back slightly, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, keeping him there.

“Whatever it is that keeps distracting you, let it go,” Gladio said, his thumb pressing comfortingly against his skin.

There was something strange about seeing Gladio’s face up close in a moment of peace between them. He’d noticed little things, handsome features, but now was different. For once the young man didn’t look like a man, but a boy. Forgetting about their physical ages was all too easy when the weight of their responsibilities forced them to grow and act beyond what anyone else their age might be distracted with. Ignis knew that in a normal life they would be concerned with other issues, but he wasn’t quite sure what those things would be. Thinking of a life without Noctis was one he could barely fathom, let alone want to indulge in, but now he found himself wondering if he’d feel the same about Gladio one day. With their fates so tightly wrapped around the life of their future king, had their destinies merged, not as two separate threads in Noctis’s life but as two interwoven strings that stretched out together into an unknown future? How could he possibly manage to thrive with Gladio at his side when he found himself staring into large, brown eyes that seemed somehow too close and yet so guarded?

“You still won’t listen to me,” Gladio said, long fingers slipping through the hair on the back of Ignis’s head, pulling them close.

Ignis was barely able to register his own confusion before Gladio kissed him, his mouth surprisingly warm and soft, void of clumsiness and completely unrushed. It was clear in that moment that what was Ignis’s first kiss had not been Gladio’s. Who? When? _Why?_

Gladio pulled back before Ignis was able to finish his thought and stood up, leaving Ignis in shock. He turned to face Gladio, fully aware of the heavy blush that colored his cheeks.

“There, think about that,” the teen said, turning and walking out the door. “Thanks for help with the leg, see ya later!” He called out before shutting the door behind him, leaving Ignis to his thoughts in the now silent room.


End file.
